


lightning cracks overhead

by strayember



Series: ice & dirt [1]
Category: Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Balcony Scene, Book 1: Red Queen, Canon Compliant, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Opening Up, Questionable Advice, Rain, Understanding, you better hide that heart of yours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28612782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strayember/pseuds/strayember
Summary: Mare Barrow is caught panicking in the rain, only to be “rescued” by Maven Calore— who can’t even save himself.
Relationships: Mare Barrow/Maven Calore
Series: ice & dirt [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2214552
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	lightning cracks overhead

**Author's Note:**

> simple re-write of the balcony scene, enjoy!

The Lightning Girl is breaking down. Raindrops stick to the most luxurious clothing she's ever worn in her miserable life. The clothing she hates. Hell, even the water despises her facade. Nature itself is attempting to destroy the character she is being forced to play. And she waits. She stands there and waits for the heavens to succeed. 

Mare Barrow has control over nothing. Not her body, not her mind, not her heart, not her soul. A damned coward. A red stain on the Silver Royals bibs as they’re spoon-fed power. 

Her hands grip the railing, this lifeless architecture is all she has now. Horrid tears, choked sobs, and trembling shoulders. The holy trinity— it stirs within her.

Mare has to resist the urge to scream as a heavy weight falls on her shoulder. A hand proceeds to grab her arm and grip it tightly-- leaving her boiling red blood to curdle underneath. Two Sentinels loom over her, eyes piercing behind their masks. 

"My lady." One of them utters, but there’s no sense of respect in his words. He seems irritated, bored even.

"Let me go." Mare attempts to steady her voice, to command them properly, like a real princess. But her voice gets lost in the wind. "Just give me a few minutes, please--." 

She is not their princess and, certainly, not their queen. She's an imposter. A being with no power, no will, no sense of self. No one answers to her.

"You heard my bride." A male voice cuts intrudes on the altercation. Firm, hard, the voice of royalty. Maven. "Let her go."

Mare can feel the pressure lessen and a (reluctant) flood of relief proceeds to burst in her chest. Maven Calore steps out onto the balcony, unbothered by the rain. He seems to bask in it, even. The Sentinels straighten, like the prince's presence frightens them. Mare isn't sure why. Maven certainly isn't as terrifying as Cal. 

"We must keep the Lady Titanos to her schedule. It's orders, sir."

"Then you have new orders." Maven's eyes seem to go void. Like his body’s releasing all the tension pooling in his shoulders. God, is he always so wound up? "I will accompany Mareena back to her lessons."

"Very well, sir." They are quick to respond in unison and just as quick to stomp away. Maven turns his head ever-so-slightly, listening to their footsteps echo in the distance. He has to resist the urge to sigh. They are unable to refuse a prince, yes. But he knows that if they were to run into his mother, the Queen would ask for Maven's head on an equally silver platter. And those bastards would deliver. 

Mare does the sighing for him, instead. Her hands are shaking. Those calloused, thieving fingers. They wither away before his eyes. He still can't wrap his head around the fact that she, nearly, managed to pick-pocket his brother. He wonders if her hands were shaking then. 

"We have showers inside, you know." He is nothing but sarcastic as he cautiously makes his way towards her, settling by her side. They both lean on the railing, looking out at the courtyard beneath them. 

"First rain of the season. Had to see it for myself." Mare's voice wavers. 

"Right... I understand, you know?"

"You can stop pretending to know anything about me or my feelings." Her head turns, brown eyes clashing against blue. He seems a bit taken aback by her bluntness. Good. He should get accustomed to the lack of respect. It's what his 'subjects' deal with on a daily basis. 

"You don't think I know how difficult it is to be here with these people?" Maven can't help but look back into the dark corridor. For once, his mind isn't racing. Why is this sensation only achievable alongside Mare? "I can't say what I want, do what I want-- with my mother around I can barely even think what I want. And my brother-!"

"What about your brother?"

Maven bites the tip of his tongue. There is no sensation of pain. 

"He's strong, he's talented, he's powerful-- and I'm his shadow. The shadow of the flame." Heat radiates off skin normally cold to the touch. It's not every day that his anger, his envy gets the better of him. His mother makes sure of that. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's fine. You're not the only one who thinks like that."

Mare's mind is flooded with red hair, shimmering fabrics, and crushed bones. The best of the Barrow's. Gisa. The golden child. A girl worth taking pride in. While Mare was destined for ruin, like all her brothers before her.

Maven's head feels like a ticking time bomb. He should be focused on the plan drilled in his mind, clearing out his thoughts and focusing on this little role he's supposed to fulfill. But he can't. Not with her so close, not when her heart is so open. And yet, this is the best time to attack.

All the poor boy can do is stare at her ruined mascara. Her hair, once sleek and combed-- now frizzes around her cheeks. Her dark eyes are full of mystery and pain. She's putting up a facade too. They're both marionettes being pulled together and apart by the same puppeteer.

"Is it a brother?" He asks.

"A sister."

"Does she look like you?" He can't help but pry a bit. His head is... clear. Light. He’s talking, Mare’s responding. Back and forth they go. There's no transcript, no pre-planned jokes, no forced expressions. It’s simply Maven Calore. Maven Calore is talking to Mare Barrow and it is both absolutely terrifying & liberating.

"No. And I'm glad she doesn't."

"Yeah. With eyebrows like yours, I'd be relieved too."

Mare goes slack-jawed. She isn't sure if she should laugh or pummel him right then and there. Maven stares off into the distance for a moment. He blinks. And suddenly, it all seems to click. 

"Sorry! Oh, Mare I-... It just slipped out, I meant no harm, truly-"

Mare settles for laughter. It hurts to laugh. Either because she is still not over the after effects of her outburst or because her mind can't quite cope with the fact that a silver has caused this fit. But the rain feels a lot cooler now. 

"It's fine. Trust me, my friend back home has said far worse."

Maven's lips twitch upwards, though he can't quite say if he's truly humored or not. He's just, sort of... grateful. Any other girl would have cried. But not Mare. Maybe she'll come to understand him more than he originally assumed.

"You bring up home a lot."

"I didn't feel so alone back there." It's a half-truth. 

"Well, being alone is the first part of being a silver." Maven forces a smile, but his tone is that of arsenic. "We're always alone. It keeps us strong."

Lightning cracks overhead, illuminating his blue eyes until they seem to glow. 

"That's just stupid." Mare retorts, much to Maven's amusement. 

"You better hide that heart of yours, Lady Titanos. It won't lead you anywhere you want to go."

The words are heavy. The air around them is heavy. And Maven's shoulders feel oh, so heavy. He's praying that Mare is smarter than her records reflect. That she’s able to heed his warning. Maybe she can best him, best his mother. When the time comes, maybe he won't have to kill. He can cower and run away alongside her. Then he could escape this hell. This destiny. Flee from himself-- a being he no longer recognizes. 

"I think I should get back to my lessons." Mare mutters, chills running down her spine. She doesn’t enjoy the tension on the balcony, and fully intends to leave him stewing in it. Alone. For she is not his lover, not his friend. She has no obligation to stay. 

He grabs her arm as soon as she takes her first step. His touch is gentle, cold. He's freezing, now. 

"I think I can help you with your problem." 

"What problem?" Mare quirks an eyebrow. 

"You don't seem like the type of girl to weep at the drop of a hat. You're homesick." He holds up a hand, as if to shush her. It's irritating. Mainly because, he knew she'd make the attempt to talk. He's already getting to know her. And, as much as she hates to admit it, she's getting to know him. "I can fix that."

Thunder crashes above. Shoes click against marble. And a balcony, haunted with forbidden conversation, is abandoned.


End file.
